Unlocked Read online

  She had taken two steps toward him when she caught the image on the TV screen and again she stopped, stunned too shocked to move. The scene was one where Holden and Ella were singing “Jesus Loves Me.” But that wasn’t all they were doing. They were also dancing.

  “Holden …” She whispered. She no longer wanted to interrupt him.

  Kate turned circles around him, her arms raised. “We’re dancing, Holden!” She giggled and skipped a few steps. “I love dancing!”

  Holden didn’t respond, but his circles grew bigger and then smaller again. And something else was different for Holden: his eyes were closed.

  Tracy looked from the dancing three-year-olds on the screen to her son and Kate and back again, and suddenly she was absolutely sure about what was happening here. What had happened the other day in gym class. So sure she wanted to call Mrs. Bristowe and ask her to come right over. The sick feeling left her, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Holden was doing something that had once given him great delight, something that had connected him to a friend and made him laugh with delight. He wasn’t turning circles because he was regressing. In fact, this might even explain the way he’d turned circles when he was five and six. He wasn’t being defiant or difficult or agitated or over stimulated. He was turning circles for one very simple, very beautiful reason. Somewhere in the private world where he lived, Holden was doing something he loved to do.

  He was dancing with Ella.

  Eight

  ENGLISH CLASS WAS OVER, AND ELLA WAS ONE OF THE LAST KIDS to leave the room. As she walked out she spotted Jake and Sam, but before she reached them she saw something she could hardly believe. The guys had another kid cornered. After the incident with Holden, Ella had talked for an hour that night with Jake. “It wasn’t funny,” she told him.

  “I’m sorry.” He touched her hair, his eyes kind and genuine again. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Ella wanted to believe him, but this time their victim was Michael Schwartz, a quiet, artsy kid who had been in a number of classes with Ella over the years. He played in the school orchestra and would probably be one of the lead flutists in the school’s Beauty and the Beast musical. Once last year they were in the same small group in their social studies class. They had to talk about their families. She still remembered that she and Michael both seemed equally hesitant to talk about what went on at home.

  “My parents are getting a divorce.” Michael was quiet, not as confident as lots of kids. “I don’t really talk about it.”

  And now here was her boyfriend —the guy who seemed so great over the summer—picking on the kid. Ella watched the way she had when the guys cornered Holden. Because she couldn’t actually believe they were doing this, and she wanted to be sure it wasn’t a two-way thing. Maybe Michael had picked a fight with them first.

  “Hey, flower boy.” Jake flicked the spot on Michael’s backpack where the design included a few flowers. “What kind of wimp walks around with flowers on his backpack?”

  Anger came over Ella in a flash. Whatever was happening here, Michael wasn’t a part of it. Clearly the kid wanted to move along, but there was literally no way past Jake and Sam without a physical confrontation. She wanted to run up and push the guys away, but how would that look? Michael might come across as more of a victim, which could make things worse for him. Instead she seethed from her place near the classroom door.

  Sam was taking a turn with him. “So what is it, fruitcake, you have something against football players?” It was Friday —game day—and he and Jake wore their uniforms. “We too manly for you, flute player?” He laughed hard. “I heard only gay guys play the flute.” Sam pranced around, pretending to play an invisible flute.

  Ella silently seethed. She was finished with Jake. She didn’t want any part of a guy who treated other kids like this. She took a few steps toward him and Sam, but she stopped herself. Michael wasn’t in danger, and again she’d only make him look weak if she tried to rescue him.

  “I’m not gay.” Michael peered up at Sam through his long black hair. “Get out of my face.”

  “Really?” Jake shoved the kid. “You’re talking back to my boy Sam?”

  Ella couldn’t stand there another minute. She stormed toward the guys, intent on pushing Jake out of the way. At the same time, three other football players walked up, and Ella stopped herself once more. Jake’s teammates seemed to understand pretty quickly what was happening, and one of them gave Jake a lighthearted shove.

  “Leave the kid alone.” The guy’s name was Brian Brickell. He had also been in a number of Ella’s classes over the years. “Come on J-Bird, pick on someone your own size.”

  At first Jake looked like he might blow up at his teammate. But then he slapped Sam on the back and sneered at Michael. “Stay out of my way.”

  Michael said nothing. He took the opportunity to escape and did so without looking over his shoulder. As he left, Sam yelled at him. “Yeah, that’s right. Don’t look back, queer boy. This is our hallway. No flute players got it?”

  Ella watched Jake go, and she felt horrified. She wanted to tell him off right here in front of his friends, but she was too sick to her stomach to speak or move. She would break up with him later. They were finished.

  She looked the opposite direction at Michael Schwartz, hurrying out of the building. For an instant, she thought about running after him and telling him she was sorry about how Jake acted. Sorry because she should’ve stepped in. But Jake would see her, and that would get awkward.

  Instead, she turned a different direction and headed out a side door. What was wrong with the kids at Fulton High? The school needed more guys like Brian Brickell, a reminder that not all football players were like Jake and Sam.

  ELLA DIDN’T SEE JAKE UNTIL TWO HOURS LATER BETWEEN classes. He walked up to her, hurt plastered across his face. “You didn’t say hi after English.”

  She stopped and searched his eyes. “We need to talk.”

  He chuckled, doing his best to charm her. “About what?”

  “Us.” She didn’t smile. “I saw the whole Michael Schwartz thing.”

  Jake knit his brow together, his laughter a little more nervous than before. “Who?”

  “The flute player.” She put her hand on her hip. “Don’t act innocent, Jake. I watched the whole thing.”

  “That?” His smile was still in place, but his confidence was fading. “I told you, baby … me and the guys do that.” His laugh was more nervous than before. “We joke around with kids. It’s no big deal.”

  She stared at him. “It is to me.” A glance at her phone told her she needed to get to class. “We need to talk.”

  “Fine.” Jake held up his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll talk.” He shrugged and started in the opposite direction. “Whatever, Ella …”

  “Yeah,” she called back in his direction. “Whatever.”

  She hurried up the stairs and didn’t give him another look. When lunchtime came she avoided the outdoor area, and went instead to the wing where the special-needs kids had their cafeteria. Holden had been given permission to sit in on their rehearsals for Beauty and the Beast starting Monday. Ella wondered if he understood that he’d gotten his way.

  As she wandered the special-education wing, she tried to imagine what he usually did during lunch. She thought he probably wasn’t in trig anymore, because she hadn’t seen him in the hallway lately. If he’d dropped the class, he would have no reason to walk through the lunch area or the math building, the way he’d done the first week.

  Ella reached the area’s smaller cafeteria and stepped inside just long enough to find Holden. He was sitting by himself, looking through his stack of flash cards. Ella wanted to talk to him, but she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to connect with him. She went to the library instead. She’d rather study history than hang out with Jake and the rest of the kids in her crowd.

  The thing was, Holden intrigued her. When he looked at her, it was like she
got a glimpse of his heart. And what she saw told her that Holden was kind and good and real, like maybe he had the biggest heart of any kid on campus. She wanted to get to know him, the real him.

  She thought about Holden through the afternoon and after Fulton notched another victory —this time over Duluth. After the game LaShante suggested everyone come to Ella’s house, the way they often did since the group started high school. The Reynolds’ basement contained a huge rec room with a pool table, comfy couches, and an enormous flat-screen TV. The perfect hang-out spot. Plus, her mom made sure everyone had lots to eat, so it was always a safer choice than hanging out in the parking lot of Stone Mountain. Usually Ella loved when people came over.

  But as the party got going, Ella was sorry she’d said yes. More people came than she’d expected, and three of her friends were mad at each other because one of them had told the other something about that one’s boyfriend. Or the other way around. The usual Friday-night drama, but it bugged Ella more this time. She wondered what kids like Holden or Michael Schwartz were doing tonight.

  She ran upstairs to refill the chip bowl, and she expected to find Jake and his buddies in the kitchen with her mom. Jake was always talking to her mom. But Jake was missing, so she walked out back and sure enough, there he was—leaning against the balcony overlooking their manicured backyard.

  Ella stepped outside. “Jake?” She took a few steps closer. This was as good a time as any to break things off with him. “What are you doing?”

  “Thinking.” He turned and faced her, leaning against the railing. “I’m sorry, Ella. You’re right.” He paused, regret written into his expression. “I’ve been a jerk lately.” He held out his hand toward her.

  Ella crossed her arms. Jake must’ve gotten the message, because he dropped his hand back to his side.

  “I don’t know … It’s like being with the guys brings out the worst in me.”

  Images of Holden and Michael flashed in her mind. “The guys?” She held her ground. “Is that what it is?”

  “Yes.” His tone was marked by remorse. “It’s just … I don’t know, immature, I guess.” He didn’t pause long enough for her to respond. “I keep thinking about summer, our trip to the beach and how we sat on the sand and watched the sunset, talking about the future.”

  Ella remembered, but she kept her tone matter-of-fact. Her decision was made up. “I thought you were special.”

  He pursed his lips, clearly frustrated with himself. “I want you to see that side of me again.”

  For a few seconds, Ella was tempted to give in, to tell him that’s what she wanted too—the Jake she’d come to care about over the summer. But before she could say anything, she pictured him and Sam, both of them sneering at Michael and making fun of him. Or the way they’d treated Holden. Ice ran through her veins and she steeled herself against his charm. “I have to tell you something.”

  “What, baby … anything.” Jake leaned harder against the railing. He slipped his hands into his pockets, his long legs kicked slightly out in front of him. His eyes shone with kindness, and there in the moonlight he was the picture of athleticism and confidence.

  “I can’t do this.” She refused to be moved. “The whole relationship thing.”

  He cocked his head, like maybe he hadn’t heard her right. “If you need time, you can have it. I understand.”

  “No … not time.” This kindness thing is an act, she told herself. The real Jake was the guy she’d seen at school bullying kids weaker than him. “I’m breaking up with you.” She sounded more weary than angry. “It’s over.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, Jake. Don’t act surprised.” She took a step back and rubbed her arms. The night air was chilly, fall well under way. Her smile felt sad, even to her. “I don’t even know you.”

  He tried for another few minutes, and then, almost like a switch had been flipped, his mood changed and he seemed to give up. “Okay, then … I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah.” Ella stepped out of his way as he headed back to the house. “I guess.”

  Jake left, and a few minutes later she heard his tires squeal down her road. She kept to herself the next few hours while the party wound down. Sometime after one in the morning she went to bed, leaving her mom at the computer on Facebook. By then her brothers had come home from across the street, and Ella was almost sure she smelled alcohol on them. They were acting funny too.

  Great, she thought. The whole family’s messed up. Her dad was on a trip with the team, of course, but he hadn’t been in the lineup for ten games. It was like everything around her was falling apart.

  The next day wasn’t much better.

  Her dad’s game was at one in the afternoon, and the whole family was expected to go. “What if I have homework?” Ella figured that would get her out of it.

  But her mom didn’t even take the time to look at her. “Homework can wait. Your father expects us all to be there.” She’d gone tanning again that morning, and her blonde hair hung in long layers around her shoulders. Her Botox injections had settled down, but they left her face stiff and mask-like. She wore black jeans, high-heeled boots, and a tight low-cut T-shirt. She smiled at Ella. “How do I look?”

  “Weird.” Ella didn’t how else to answer.

  “Ella Jean, that’s rude.” The lines in her mother’s forehead were more noticeable when she was angry.

  “Fine.” Ella put her hands on her hips. “You look like you’re trying too hard.” She turned and walked away. “Ella, get back here this minute.”

  She didn’t stop, didn’t look back, didn’t talk to her mother again until they rode with the boys to the ballpark for her father’s game. “This is very important to your father,” her mom explained. Her perfume filled the family’s Audi. “This could be a turning point for him.” She checked her lip gloss in the rearview mirror. “I’m glad you’re all here.”

  None of them answered. Ella hated this—their family going to a ball game together like some kind of freak show. Why parade in together so everyone could see them? Randy Reynolds’ beautiful family. Big deal. Ella kept her sunglasses in place. She hated everything about the circus that made up her life. The game was a dismal loss, even from their front-row first-baseline seats. Their dad played only one inning and struck out on three fastballs. He looked angry and distant as he huffed to the dugout. They were sitting right next to the home dugout, and her brothers tried clapping and encouraging him, but he didn’t look their way —not once.

  Ella only wanted to be home, and five hours later she got her wish. Her brothers headed across the street again, and her mom drove off to the gym for a late-night session with her trainer. Her dad, of course, would be late at the clubhouse. That left Ella alone in her family’s big house. I hate this, she told herself. Life’s always lonely. Lonely and messed up.

  She wandered upstairs to the stretch of cabinets that ran along their spacious hallway. Mindlessly, she opened a few of them, not sure what was inside. Three cabinets down the line she found a stack of old photo albums and scrapbooks. She hadn’t talked to anyone from school all day, and she had no plans for the night. So she took the stack from the cupboard and settled down on the floor, her back against the opposite wall.

  She looked through a book of photos from when she was in third or fourth grade. Her brothers were little kids back then, and her mom and dad were together in most of the pictures. Ella ran her finger over the faces in the photographs. What happened to her family? They used to be happy, right? Sure, her dad traveled, but when he was home they did stuff together, weekend trips and afternoons at the park. Swimming in the backyard pool on hot summer afternoons.

  So when had everything unraveled?

  A few pages more and she came across an Easter picture, the three kids dressed in their Sunday best outside a beautiful church. Ella peered intently at the photos. As far back as she could remember, her parents hadn’t taken them to church except on Easter and Christmas. But she had t
he sense that there had been a time when she believed in God—more than she had lately, anyway. Now, though, her family never talked about anything more than what was happening that day. The boys’ soccer games, their hitting practice, her mom’s busy schedule between the gym and the various salons. Ella and her mom never talked, not more than a handful of words each day, and those were only the necessary discussions about dinner and dishes and homework.

  Ella slid the book back on the shelf and picked up an older-looking one from the stack on the floor. This one had a picture of Ella and her parents on the cover, back when Ella was maybe two or three. “Was this where we lost it?” she whispered. “Before Dad started playing pro ball?”

  The first page of the book showed pictures of her parents, happy and clearly in love. Her mom’s hair looked natural, and she carried a few more pounds on her hips. No big deal, just enough so she looked real. Not the plastic replica she was now.

  Again Ella ran her finger over the photo. Dear God … if You’re there, could You tell me this? What happened to my family?

  There was no answer—not that Ella actually expected one. She wasn’t a praying person, anymore than anyone in her family was. But watching Brian Brickell the other day, she sort of wished she were. Brian was a Christian, she knew because he talked about his faith. He was kind and he stuck up for kids like Michael or Holden. He wrote Bible verses in his eye black the way Tim Tebow once did for the University of Florida.

  Just once she wished she had that kind of certain faith in God.

  She turned the next page and the layout was filled with photos from some beach day. But it wasn’t just Ella’s parents this time. There was another couple in the pictures, and a little boy about her age. In one picture, she and the boy were holding hands, facing the ocean. The caption beneath the photo read “Ella and Holden at Tybee Island Beach.”

  Ella and Holden? She pulled up her knees and brought the book closer to her face. Holden who? She and the boy were both tan and blond—adorable kids who were clearly the best of friends. Another picture showed the six of them. Her family and this Holden’s family. Their parents looked happy and relaxed —the way people looked when they’d been friends for a lifetime.